Chuoi Chien

The bananas finally ripened from when we bought it during Thanksgiving to make dessert with. I decided to deep batter fried them and serve the lots with coconut milk. I know the kids would love this. Too bad I wont see them for awhile. :(

Spent

I don't know why fate plays cruel jokes on me. Being a total foodie, I eat anything. I have put the inner wall of my stomach through the worse of it. That is why I can practically eat anything. Sadly, the people in my life right now, they are not.

At breakfast, I learned that my sous-chef-of-the-week cannot eat raw greens because he has a sensitive digestive condition. My omelet stacked salad galore gave him a tummy ache.

For dinner tonight, I had to make a cook and marinate my sister's pork entirely differently because she can't her alcohol in it. It does not sound like much, but I condense all my sauces for an ENTIRE DAY so it was extremely tiring. On top of that, the latest addition to from Vietnam is a girl who is strangely picky about all things except for McDonald's. So before I serve dinner, I had to send out for backup cheeseburgers so that she would be able to sit down and eat with us.

It turns out that we did not need the MCD at all. :D

Kitchen Re-opened

Its been weeks since I have had a chance to cook!  Re-doing the kitchen is entirely exhausting.  Not that I did much of the actual work, but waiting and watching is entirely just as hard (well, not entirely).  I have been thinking of all the things I would make when I could use my oven and stove again.  And I knew i definitely miss bacon, eggs and breakfast food that I stuff myself with every Saturday morning.

And then for my first dinner since, fried salmon steaks with a sour cream sauce with baked squirrel bait (squash, grilled mushrooms, honey & nuts).

And when a kitchen is re-opened, there are guests! I am thrilled that my cousins and sister came home for the holidays. So for the next few days to come, I will be cooking up a storm.

Visiting for the moment is my sous-chef "Kido."  Both bitching at each other and cooking while spewing out hateful words for the one that is missing in this gathering and joking about the one that is going to be here for next year's bash.

Bon Apetit.

Pho Show!

My grandma is a Pho snob. There is only one place in all of Vietnam that she thinks befitting of her breakfast services. And they sell out fast and in some random nook that is impossible to find. Mornings in Ho Chi Minh would be all of us gathering around to eat with her while listening to Elvis Phuong and hearing her tell us stories of the old days of her journeys as a rice trader during the war.

There are many things that I try to resemble my grandmother. However, Pho snob I am not. I think I have decently low standards as long as its hot! This is probably because I have lived in the middle of America for the last decade where any Pho is better than none. Pho SHOW!

That is why, if you happen to be impossibly far from a Pho joint, I have created this amazingly simple way of making the noodle soup that is just like the stuff that we can all buy at our city's version of Pho### or Saigon/Vietnam/Mekong-cafe.

Ingredients:

1. 3 Cans Beef broth 
2. Banh Pho (Pho Noodles/Rice Sticks) 
3. 2 Cups of Water 
4. Salt + Pepper  
5. 2 lb. Beef  
6. 1/2 Onion Peeled  
7. 1 Chunk of Ginger  
8. Herbs:  
a. Bean Sprouts  
b. Mint  
c. Sweet Basil  
9. Spices:  
a. Rock Sugar  
b. Star Anise  
c. Cinnamon  
d. Cardamom  
e. Fennel Seeds  
f. Whole Coriander Seeds  
10. Coffee Filter or Tea Infuser  
11. Hoisin Sauce

A. Soup:  
1. Slice open ginger into 1/2 
2. Microwave ginger for 1 minute  
3. Boil 2 cups of water with 1/2 Onion & Microwaved Ginger.  
○ Leave boiling for about 5 minutes 
4. Add 1 Can of beef broth & bring to boil.  
5. Wrap & seal spices with Coffee filter (or place into tea infuser) 
6. Deposit package into broth.  
7. Leave heat on Medium and bring to boil.  
8. Add another can of beef broth.  
9. Repeat 7&8.  
10. Bring to boil and leave boiling for 20 minutes.

B. Beef: • Slice beef into thin slices

C. Herbs: Wash with cold water 3 times and plate for everyone to share.

D. Pho Noodles: 
1. Boil water.  
2. Drop into boiling water and stir.  
3. Should cook in about 4-5 minutes.  
4. Rise with cold water.

E. Serve:  
1. Bowl the noodles.  
2. Top with raw beef slices and bean sprouts.  
3. Pour boiling soup on top.  
4. Add herbs (done at table)  
5. Add Hoisin

And remember kids, don't be a snob and share it with your neighbors and share a few war stories. Cause you will probably be too tired to clean up after yourself and your friends are likely gracious and grateful enough to do the dishes.(If not, ditch them and replace with better ones. PHO REALZ!)

A last farewell.

Walking around this city for the last time, I decided to take pictures of my favorite spots around town. There are many I miss but I don't think its possible to capture everything that Hong Kong was for me in a tiny 4GB memcard.

There are pics of where Steve & I got our engagement ring too.  Its not Tiffany's but its harder to buy a ring there!

And these are a few places where I first fell in love with HK.

And a bit of amazing.

And home.

From a small fishing town south of HK Island, Feb 2009.

A bundle of herbs in a blender does wonders

Since I have been grinding Oz's food for him,  I have realized that my blender is quite extraordinary in what it can handle.  So I decided to make some of my own Pesto Pasta with leftover chicken that I shredded, and a bundle of herb that picked from the back about 2-3 days ago.

1)  I started by combining Sweet Basil, Mint, Bell Peppers, Tomatoes.  U used a knife to cut some of it up in chunks and picked the stems off from the herbs.  

2)  In the meantime, boil some pasta.  Shred some chicken.

3)  Run blender with garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper.  Add melted butter to pesto sauce when done.  Do all this moderately and increase amount of spices and such as you like.

4)  Dump your pasta out.  Do not rinse your pasta, try to pop it right into a big bowl right after so you have some of the moisture still on there.

5)  Combine the pesto, shredded chicken. Voila.  Bon Apetit.

I had the pasta with some bitter melon soup.  Perfect for a rainy afternoon.  After I ate, I napped for 5 hours.  I have philosophy HW to do, which means that i will be up very late tonight. :(

269

...because I am still very happy...

L'amour est bleu

Tình yêu là màu xanh (L'amour est bleu)

Our family would jump into a big 16-seater-van in the early 90s to voyage up to a mountain city called Dalat in the southern region of Viet Nam. On the whole way, the speakers would blast with this track or different ballads from Ngoc Lan, a beautiful tri-lingual Vietnamese chanteuse.  Family roadtrips.  

This is the track...

Stacking.

I was cleaning out my kitchen cupboards today. We are in the process of renovating the kitchen. Dishware, piles and piles of them stacked on top of each other, none really matching nor fitting because they are so odd and different.


As a kid, I was very envious when I went to other homes and the hostesses pull out the matching plates. I always wished that we had the kind of household where the glasses match the salad bowl. I hated seeing the meals I slaved for hours for being served in plastic rice bowls.


In the last couple of years, when I have moved to a new place I would buy an entire new set of coordinating wares to fit my aesthetic needs. Pieces that I pick up here and there, trying to make a matching set for when I get a chance to host.


And then at the end of every leasing cycle, I would bring them all home. One by one, they get go through a cycle of "survivals of the fittest." What now is left, are the best of them. Mixed and matched, none really stacking on top of each other. As a group, they would not form a beautiful table setting like the ones in Bon Apetit. Individually, each is like a portal down memory lane.  


A square red one with little birds on them; I made stuffed tomatoes lunch during fall break with Tina in 2007. A plastic green plate that I shared garlic steak with my cousin during her first year in St. Louis while watching TLC. Then the small blue rimmed rice ceramic bowls that I cooked vegetarian soup for my grandmother's alter in middle school.

Cluttersome and random as they are. I can't stop adding to them. I can't bear to break or toss a single one out. Therefore, they stay on my counter. They're my stack.

Scorecards.

Music makes this post less dull...
I was talking to a friend most recently and we started talking about dating. My rating system for guys was brought up. Since I am Supply Chain guy, I believe in performance metrics and scorecards to standardize processes. ;) Its hard when you meet a lot of boys in your life. And when you're a romantic like I am, you think there is one perfect guy that you should end up with. A lot doesn't "feel right" even though they are wonderfully terrific men. I guest this was my way of justifying my floozy ways. If you are facing similar situations, which I bet a lot of you are, take out note cards & pencil ladies/gents. This takes a few try until you find the right set of standardization for you.

The rules:

- Make them up as you go but try to think in points.

- This is a better way to be shallow than to judge based on looks alone. Now you get to be critical about everything. :D

- Only have 10 basic point metrics. Too much and it makes it unfair. Unless there is something absolutely amazing that they show right from the start, like playing the piano is the middle of empty concert hall.

- These are my point metrics.

1. Smarts = 2 points

2. Funny = 2 points

3. Kind = 1 points

4. Looks = 2 points

5. Tall = 1 point

6. Successful = 1 point

7. Family = 1 points

8. Humble/Down to earth = 3 points

9. Picky eater = -2 points

10. Smelled bad = -2 points

If my date is good looking but is a picky eater, he is still at -1 until he show other qualities that would make up for it.

A lot of 8s & 9 will come in and out of your life. But when the first guy that gets to a 10... you just stop tallying. The negative points are suddenly positive.

Its a few months before Valentine 2010. So go out, share a few glasses of wine and do some basic math. Arithmetically happy, I wish you luck and precision. Have a good weekend.

A Few Nooks of my Life

Pre-"This Christmas"

I have started thinking about this year's holiday. As the summer cools down and the cold is settling in, the first set of sweaters are coming out. I can see the bottom of the buck full of Reds and Greens, thick and warm. Looks like this year, the first of maybe many years to come, I wont need these chunky blankets. Feeling guilty about abandoning my family, I am spending my holidays in a small island introducing a possible tradition to a few additions of my family. I hear its 100 days away. The spirit is here early this year.

Homecoming wish

When I close that back door, the rest of the world is outside.

I drop the groceries on the floor; hang up my keys; change into shorts. I change Oz's pad, feed him, and attempt to play with him for a few minutes. Open the kitchen windows to let air in. Start putting away the dishes. Then, the groceries, my schoolwork, my clothes. Make my bed again.

Hungry. I raid the fridge.

I combine:

-Whatever is leftover from yesterday: old seasoned chicken (mom!), wilting okras, 1/3 can of tomato puree, some eggs, frozen lemon grass

-Some gifts I bought myself: pure butter, mushrooms

I have:

Proceed to watch the last few episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Feel guilty about drinking beer when I am on the SB diet. Dump beer out. Cry(sob) because death is sad.

Shower. Talk to Steve. Do Philosophy HW, read.

Drink chrysanthemum leaves soup. Watch Glee.

Floss. Floss again with new dental toothpick thingy. Brush up. Blog. Go to bed.

I wish I can keep this routine everyday. I want routine. I am ready for routine.

Progression 1

Its my 3rd day on the SouthBeach. Its really not bad because I know how to cook. But then its really bad cause I know how to cook. I keep thinking about all the things I could glaze in honey and cook til it crusts a golden brown. I think about the potato gratins.

Most of all, I miss Coca-Cola. How it fizzes on my tounge and down my throat. Those slight tinkles when you just got it from the fountain. And that sweet after taste you feel hollowing your mouth out, drying it up for the second sip. I miss Coke.

Dinner from last night: Porkchops soaked in Tomatoes and Peppers. Onions and Artichokes in Butter. Reduced Roasted Tomatoes sauce.

Ballet.

I don't remember when exactly, but my childhood best friend-my mother- suddenly turned into this presence that I must avoid. This fond memory I keep but a reality I hide from.

Perhaps its my rebellion or her overwhelming need to control. Perhaps its this low tolerance I have for hysteria coupled with her tendency to shriek. Perhaps its her wanting me to become a doctor and me deciding to become a business student. Perhaps its the stress: her stress of making ends meet, and mine trying to having to one day be able pick up after her obligations.

Whatever it is. It is not the one thing we both refuse to talk to each other about. My homosexuality. Steve. A future I am planning that she refuses to and snidely wont accept.

Sometimes, like today, I wake up to find her giving me evil eyes. I pretend not to see it. Nightfall, she comes home from work and screams about stuff that I threw out a few days ago in the process of cleaning. I ignore it all. I am numbly silent. I don't react. I close my door and avoid the drama. This scene is typical for us. Its usually is follows some sort of statement or proof that I am very homosexual. (I annouced a trip to Hong Kong this Fall over dinner last night.)

I remember when I was younger. When she gets home from work. My sister and I would run to the door to greet her. She would hand me her purse and tell me stories about her day. I would proceed to heat up dinner. Then she would ask me to massage her hands and tell her about my day. I looked forward to those few minutes before bed. Sometimes when I think about having kids with Steve. I imagine my son/daughter doing the same for my mother when she is older.

That is the situation. Its been like this since I turned 17. I started writing this entry hoping that I could reflect, conclude, and do grand jeté across the pages with the finally of wisdom. Sadly, I still feel the same way I do about my mother as I did 5 years ago: unbalanced and entangled.